He would begin by stopping in the basement opposite the shoot. This was still in the Rue Neuve-Saint-Augustin; but it had been necessary to enlarge it, and it was now as wide as the bed of a river, down which the continual flood of goods rolled with the loud noise of rushing water. There was a succession of arrivals from all parts of the world, rows of waggons from every railway, a ceaseless unloading, a stream of packing-cases and bales flowing underground and absorbed by the insatiable establishment. He gazed at this torrent pouring into his house, he felt that he was one of the masters of the public fortune, that he held in his hands the fate of French manufactures, and yet was unable to buy a kiss from one of his saleswomen. Then he passed on to the receiving department, which now occupied that part of the basement skirting the Rue Monsigny. Twenty tables were ranged there, in the pale light from the air-holes; quite a crowd of assistants was bustling about, emptying cases, checking goods, and marking them in plain figures, amidst the neighbouring roar of the shoot, which almost drowned their voices. Various managers of departments stopped him, he had to solve difficulties and confirm orders. The cellar filled with the soft glimmer of satin and the whiteness of linen, a prodigious unpacking in which furs were mingled with lace, French fancy goods with Eastern hangings. With a slow step he wended his way amidst all these riches thrown about in disorder, heaped up in their rough state. Up above, they would shine in the window displays, set money galloping through the departments, no sooner shown than carried off, in the furious rush of business which traversed the place. But he kept on thinking that he had offered Denise silks and velvets, anything she might like to take in no matter what quantity, from among these enormous heaps, and that she had refused his offer by a slight shake of her fair head.